Nine Months
by rijane
Summary: Mick gets his miracle when Beth becomes pregnant. Follows her pregnancy and the complications of their little family.
1. Chapter 1

itle: Nine Months

Summary: I'm a closet whore for Mick kid fic. So here we go, I'm writing my own. Beth gets knocked up and the delightful duo deal.

Thanks to PNWgal and Hydriotaphia for giving this a read through and encouraging my crazy

Author's note: There's pregnancy sex herein, well, later herein. Cause I'm damaged like that and can't seem to write these two without sex. I've written it into separate chapters and will clearly have it marked in copious author's notes, so you can skip it if that sort of thing wigs you out and you'll miss nothing but me and my odd sexual proclivities

**Part One**

The smell should have tipped him off first. He was so inured to her scent that the cocktail of hormones and the hiccup of her cycle had only passingly registered. But he hadn't known what he was looking for.

The syncopation of the echoing heartbeat, a second rhythm chasing Beth's around the apartment, was what finally threw him off. At first it had terrified him. He had stalked the apartment, on the verge of pulling up the floorboards, trying to figure out whether he was going insane or if someone was trying to drive him there.

They'd crawled into bed, Beth's mouth on his and hands pulling at his pants for the brief interlude before he retreated to his freezer.

He'd begun a trail of kisses, mouth to neck to breasts to stomach to pelvis.

And froze.

The thud.

He pressed an ear up against her.

"Mick?" Beth whined.

"Shhh..."

"You sh-"

"Beth," Mick's latent breath kicked up a notch. He listened. It was unmistakably coming from her. The second heartbeat. "Oh God. Oh God."

She was clothed, scooped up and in his arms in a heartbeat. Two heartbeats.

"Beth" he shook his head. "It can't be. It just can't be, but what the hell else--"

"Mick, what's wrong?" Beth struggled to jump from his arms but he held her.

"Nothing. Everything," Mick curled her up like a weight bar, again to his ear.

"That's very cryptic but you're freaking me out." Mick lowered her to the ground.

"I think you're pregnant."

The little cadence beat questions like how and why, what now and what if, at him, questions no one seemed to be able to answer. Not the pile of research Beth had buried herself in, not Josef, not the litany of doctors – vampire and otherwise – Mick had chased down, not the covert tests, not even the damned soothsayers brought in by the older vampires on Josef's payroll.

Beth blushing and Mick hedging, they inventoried every position, every location for conception. They recounted food and blood eaten, Beth gave gallons of her own blood and bodily fluids for the testing. The movements of the sun and the moon were tracked and every possible moment was analyzed. And still the reality of Mick and Beth and the life that they had somehow created was a mystery and a miracle.

And so, with little other choice, they decided to ride the pendulum between worry and acceptance for the next eight months.

* * *

"I'm just going to live in the bathroom," Beth lay flat against the cool tile, Mick's hands rubbing her back, an endless ache warring with the waves of nausea. "Bring me my laptop. I'm staying here now."

"Beth, this is natural. Normal. We should be happy."

"You be happy. I'll be vomiting," she groaned.

* * *

Mick sat on the couch, shirt half open, feet bare. There was a time when that was all Beth needed to drive him to the floor and ruin another shirt.

But for the last two months every Henley made it from the wash to the drawer to Mick without incident. His hands stayed above her waist, fingers restricted to her stomach and the light workings of her back and shoulders.

"Where did you go, libido?" Beth glanced down at her silent self. "Are you ever coming back?"

* * *

"Here," Josef thrust a cigar into Mick's hand, its rich smell of ball games and old men, sparking memories in the young vampire. His best friend concealed the ache of jealousy with the practiced ease of every other emotion. Just a flicker.

"What's this?" Mick found a perch for the cigar while Josef chewed at his.

"Cohiba Maduros. It's tradition, I hear," Josef flicked a silver lighter in front of his own cigar. "Celebrating new life with a puff of death into the lungs. We could follow my traditions, but I'd need time to find a fresh goat."

* * *

She couldn't sleep alone anymore. Mick spent more time in a bed than he had during his brief stint as a human. It was in the dark hours of the night; she tossed and turned and he sat beside her, paperwork spread.

"Mick," her voice was tentative, laced with fear, and she didn't turn to face him. Then in a tone only his ears could hear, "what if there's something ... wrong with the baby?"

"There won't be. There can't be," Mick soothed. He dropped the folder and wrapped his arms around her.

"You don't know," tears now. "What if this is a punishment, not a reward?"

"How can a baby be a bad thing?" Mick bit back his own worries. The God that took away his humanity was the same one that gave him Beth, so he was familiar with the give and take of this universe. Take a child, give a monster sounded like a viable proposition.

"But what if..."

"What if you are making a miracle?" Mick asked. He bent over her and kissed the bump. He could worry enough for them both. "What if you are giving me everything I've ever wanted?"

* * *

A quick lesson from Ryder and Mick began filling the computer with pictures of her, of the changes. Of her glow, her frowns, the tiny bulge against her muscled abdomen. She stole the camera and shot his hands on her, him on her, him. They both ignored the undercurrent of fear that the bubble might burst and the joy would pop out of their lives as fast as it came in.

* * *

"Motherfucking --"

"Beth, he means well."

"Fuck his good intentions," a slam of her shoe against the wall as Beth sent her heel flying. "Fuck Guillermo, fuck the coroner and fuck this story."

Mick froze, unable to suss out the appropriate response. Her other shoe flew. Too close to his head to be entirely accidental.

"I don't care if this kid is dangling from my goddamn uterus, if I want to see a corpse, your little vamp buddy better get the hell out of my way or I'll going to bring a flamethrower next time."


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Here's one of those clearly marked **SEXUAL IN NATURE** parts. If this isn't your thing, skip to part three. You'll lose nothing plotwise, I promise. Though you will miss some hot and heavy MickBeth.

Part Two

In the hollow stretch of morning sun, Mick tucked himself away and Beth puttered toward the bathroom, work hours away. She started the shower and dropped her nightshirt to the ground.

Her practiced avoidance of the mirror slipped and she caught sight of her profile. The bump now a bulge. Her hands played at it, part of her but now suddenly separate. Round and somehow surprising.

"Mick!"

One breath and he was there.

"What's wrong?" he stared at his naked wife and her Narcissus gaze in confusion.

"Look," Beth moved closer. Her stomach kissed the glass. "Pop goes the belly."

Mick bit back a laugh. He cradled his arms around her, the steam warming him.

"Yeah, we're really pregnant," he kissed the back of her neck. A fever shot through her. He was about to let her go when she grabbed his hands and moved them to her swollen breasts. Shock sent him back a step, the pressure sent tingles through her above and below. She trapped his hands against her and watched the flush of silver in his gaze in the blur of the mirror.

"Mick, I'm ready again," Beth rubbed against him. A rumble sent a quake from his chest through her.

Beth turned, pulled at his damp pants and stroked his chill skin, her hands quickly warming the part that mattered most.

"Are you sure we won't hurt the baby?" Mick cast an uncertain glance at her stomach. "There are other things we can do."

"Mick, I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, but you're just not that big."

He opened and closed his mouth, unable to form a response. Laughing, Beth broke away long enough to shut the water off, and returned to him.

"Don't worry, you're big enough," she held a hand, guiding him to the bedroom and onto the bed. Mick shook off his pants, already hard.

Her breath catching, Beth lay sideways on the bed and guided him down until they were side by side, facing each other.

Mick traced her chest, finding new trails, fitting her to him anew. Beth shivered against his ministrations, nipples hard and body screaming for him.

"Keep going. Like this," She bent a knee, moving her leg up and to the side as Mick slipped his over her.

Her stomach filled the space between them, pressed against the expanse of him. One hand stayed at her tender breasts, the other hand trailed down and played at her, teasing the soft lips below.

"Now, Mick, now," she gasped. He moved his hand to cup her from behind, aligning them.

Mick slipped in, face inches from her, watching the squeeze of her eyes and the bite of her lip. The desperate feeling of her warmth around him, him within her, at last.

He gripped her thigh and began the beat. She moved in time with him, hips rocking, her arms wrapped and pulling him tight as the rhythm crescendoed.

"Almost," she whispered, eyes open and fixed on him. She tightened, trembled. The hum of pleasure rushing through her. A deep breath and she flushed. "Oh, Mick!"

She slackened but kept the pace as he chased her, hands roaming her stomach to her breasts until the sense of her overwhelmed him and he felt the release.

It was over too quickly, but he stayed in her, eyes on her, held her against him.

When he withdrew, Beth let out a sigh and heavy eyelids closed, but she didn't sleep. Not yet. Mick glanced down at the warm curve of her against him.

He trailed a hand over the stretching skin and her eyes blinked open.

"Can I?" Mick gestured to her belly uncertainly.

"Of course." He settled his head against the bump and rested a hand on her.

"He's quiet," Mick worried.

"If he's anything like Mommy, he's a little tired."

A new happiness washed over Mick's post coital haze.

"Mommy," he grinned. "Mommy and Daddy."

"I guess we are," Beth put her hand over his and drifted to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for coming along on for the ride and all the delightful feedback. I'm having fun and I hope you are, too :) Next up, second trimester...

Part Three

At four months, he started to sing again – Johnson, Coltrane, T-Bone, Duke, Muddy, Louis. He found the old records with Billie and Ella scratching, headphones against Beth, insisting the CDs were no good. CCR, the Doors, the Beatles, sure, but always back to the basics.

"Is you is or is you ain't my baby," his voice rumbled against her.

MLMLMLMLML

Mick sat on the couch, an overflowing laundry basket at his feet, the fabric folding over his hands, his movements trapping Beth in their simple grace. His shirts, her shirts, socks in tight balls, towels stacked. Her eyes watered as an image of tiny clothes in his hands flashed.

He turned.

"What's wrong?"

"You're doing laundry?"

"Did you think my clothes magically appeared in the dresser before you came along?" he arched a brow and she fell in love all over again.

Beth settled on the couch, lowering herself with just a hint of wobble. She began to help him build the piles. "I think there's a lot of magic involved with you."

MLMLMLMLML

They sat at the small table wedged near the kitchen, one of the many things Mick had realized they needed. A kitchen table, a bedroom, a banister, locks for everything, bits of plastic to shove in outlets, the list was ever-growing.

Her chicken was shoved to the side and Beth busied herself pouring vinegar over her rice.

"My memory might be failing me, but how can that sound good?"

She shrugged and stirred the pile with her fork. Mick took a gulp of his breakfast, pausing when her eyes settled on him.

"Is this bothering you?" he set the glass down, licked his lips clean.

"No," she shook her head, sending a screen of blond hair between them.

"I'm waiting for it to sound good," Beth heaved out of her chair, grabbed the blood and sniffed. Mick let the tickle of fear. At some point, this pregnancy was bound to echo the vampire that had fathered it. Beth tilted the liquid toward her and poked the tip of her tongue in it.

She made a face.

"Where's the vinegar?"

MLMLMLMLML

The fragile happiness built. The Pythian predictions less so.

He rubbed cocoa butter on her skin, his hands on her as much as possible. She fell asleep to his soft voice against her, white noise of story after story – his mother's advice, a boy becoming a soldier, Christmases and birthdays, the feel of a guitar in his hands – chasing her to dreams.

"What will you talk about when he actually gets here?"

"Everything."

Beth's body pressed against Mick, backside following the trail of him. His hands wound around her, following the expanding curves of her. He spread his hands over their child, his hands unable to hold him. He brushed fingertips over her stomach, feeling the tiny movements thrumming beneath the skin.

"It tickles," she didn't stop him.

"I'll tickle your outsides. He'll tickle the in." A butterfly kick in response.

"Already conspiring against me," Beth murmured.

MLMLMLMLML

Mick learned. Kegel exercises and folic acid and episiotomies and toxoplasmosis and serum free T3 test and placental lactogen. He opened Gray's "Anatomy of the Human Body" and Dewhurst's "Textbook of Obstetrics and Gynaecology."

"Maybe you should teach me some of this?" Beth's bump near his face, irresistible. He pressed to her.

"You'll be busy."

"You'll be absent," she pronounced.

He flinched.

"The blood, Beth. It's already... I'll try."

An eruption of tears, nose running, heaving, graceless sobs.

He pulled her to his lap. She didn't fit, belly against the desk, and cried again.

"I'm sorry," she curled against him like a child.

"So am I."

MLMLMLMLML

"I feel like Katie Holmes," Beth shifted on the table. "Are you going to run this thing every week?"

"It's just a rental," Mick tried to adjust his mental picture of Andi as the midwife adjusted cords and knobs. She stirred the warming goo and he caught flashes of pale pricks on her wrist. Josef liked them smart and beautiful.

"Let's get started,"

Beth pulled her shirt up and Mick smiled involuntarily at the sight of her stomach; she wiggled when Andi spread the jelly over her.

Then the wand waved and seconds ticked by, the screen blank as she located the uterus.

"And there's your baby!" she announced. The circle on circle, fuzzy gray against the black.

And Beth was crying again.

"That's – it's really," she couldn't get words out.

Mick wasn't sure who grabbed whose hand first, but suddenly Beth was squeezing him past the point of human comfort. Andi zoomed in and there it was.

Beth's heart jumped as she peered at the screen.

"There, it's flickering," she pointed.

"That's the heartbeat Daddy's been hearing."

An aching breath poured out of Beth, tears streaming now, and Mick brought her hand, still grasped in his, to his lips.

"Lie still," Andi instructed and then turned up the volume.

_THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP_

"Oh my God," Beth murmured again and again. She stretched her free hand as if to touch the screen, but fell short. The head, the ghost of the umbilical cord. For all his preternatural vision, this was the best thing Mick had ever seen.

"About 140 beats-per-minute," Andi studied the screen. "Do you want to know the sex?"

"Mick thinks it's a boy," Beth smiled. "But I'd like to know for sure, past the psychic sniffer bit."

"Give Daddy a prize," a finger pointed at the tiny jut from amid the static of the image. "It's a boy."

MLMLMLMLML

"Jack?"

"No."

"Josef?" her smile.

"That's just asking for several centuries of smirking."

"Jude?"

"Do you particularly like the letter 'J'?"

"Patron saint of lost causes. I thought it would be appropriate."

"Matthias then," he shot back. "Patron saint of happiness."

Beth raised her eyebrows, mimicking her husband.

"Patron saint of our son getting his ass kicked on the playground?"


	4. Chapter 4

Heaps of thanks to **Guardian Angel** for giving this a read through and offering some much needed words of encouragement. Now for something a little different...

Part Four

"Don't you have a husband to do this for you?" Guillermo asked as he bundled the bags of blood for Beth.

"Josef has custody of Mick tonight. I'm trying to get ahead on some errands," Beth plopped down in Guillermo's chair without invitation and slipped off her shoes, plain black flats that made her feel short and clumsy.

She sifted through the stack of coroner reports, skimming.

"Beth, you really shouldn't-" he moved to snatch the papers away, suddenly over her shoulder.

A flare of the blonde's blood pressure and a half grunt shut the vampire up.

"Oh God."

Her hand flew to her stomach.

_Plasma protein A and alpha-fetoprotein markers ... Clinicopathologic correlation: Cause of death of infant Perkins is antepartum stillbirth._

The file was thankfully gone before she could flip to the photos. Beth curled herself in, trying to block out the black mass threatening to eat her alive.

"He's not--" Guillermo's light hand on her shoulder, hesitant. "Kid's got good blood. I can smell it."

"I never thought I wanted to be a mom," Salt of tears on her cheeks again. There was a part of her that never stopped crying. "But now I just want him. I have never wanted anything more in my life. It scares the hell out of me."

"Get used to it," his words were harsh, his tone soft. "They're so breakable. And they can break your heart."

Beth looked up, questioning.

"Maria. Eight-years-old forever. Just Papi left to remember," his hand was cold but comforting now. "You never stop worrying and you're always scared. You'll be scared for him for the rest of his life. This is the only time you'll know exactly where he is and that he's okay. And he is, Beth, he's okay. Heart's beating, kicking your liver and doing, you know, all that baby stuff."

A hiccup laugh came from Beth.

"I'm sorry," she moved to get up, feeling for her shoes. "I didn't know-"

"It's fine. I don't advertise," he eased her to a standing position. "But I remember."

* * *

Room dark, he watched from the corner with book in hand.

Left, right. Rolling. Pillows mashed. Bed, floor. Pillows on the floor. She followed with a sigh.

He rose, slid his guitar out, knelt in front of her, strumming. She watched, head curled atop her arm and the smooth face tapped against her front, vibration through her, through them.

_"Make me down a pallet on your floor_

_Make me down_

_Make me a pallet down soft and low." _

His fingers pulled against the strings, cupped the neck. His voice ached..

_"Make me a pallet down soft and low_

_When I'm broken I got no where to go_

_Make me a pallet down soft and low_

_Make me a pallet on your floor."_

Guitar gone, he stretched his body before hers, took her hand in his and tucked it beneath his cheek, humming til she slept.

* * *

"Blue is so lame," Beth flicked the swatch away.

"Green then?" Mick held one up.

"Vomit."

"Yellow?"

"Snot."

Mick sighed.

"Yes, you are."

The catalogue whipped across the room, barely missing Mick.

"I'm carrying your son. I am joy and light and all things wonderful," Beth huffed.

"You are cranky and throwing things at my head."

"I'm fat and uncomfortable."

"You are pregnant and perfect." Mick scooped up the battered nursery catalogue, then his wife, balancing her easily at eye level. Her arms gripped his neck. "If a little--"

"Put me down!"

"-- particular lately."

"Mick!"

"Put. Me. Down," a giggle fit warred with righteous indignation.

"Pick a color."

"No!" Beth sent her fingers to his neck, tickling.

Mick pinned her hand between his cheek and shoulder.

"Yes.

"This doesn't count. I'm under duress!"

"I'll show you duress," Mick shifted her and returned the tickle, hitting her sweet spot behind the ear. She laughed and froze.

"Oh my God."

The acrid smell hit Mick and he laughed before he could stop himself. She was out of his arms and on her feet, running to the bathroom as fast as her seven-months-pregnant body would let her.

"It's not funny!"

"It's a little funny," Mick said before following her, then louder.

"So, yellow then?"

* * *

"Not a good idea," Mick's tone was firm.

"If you don't show them off, someone is going to get curious."

"Curiosity can kill those cats. I'll take care of that."

"Really? Every nosy vamp in L.A.? Planning to subcontract any of that? I'll give you a couple cards, 'cause that could take a while, Mick."

Beth stood outside the door to the apartment, key at the ready and blatantly eavesdropping.

"I'm not opening my home to every vampire who wants to snoop, Josef."

"Not all of them. Just the ones that matter. And it doesn't have to be your home."

"Beth only knows a couple of us. She wouldn't be comfortable."

"It's time she met them. She's our not-so-little miracle and you both better get used to it."

Beth swung the door open.

"The miracle is home," she announced. Mick rose and swooped in to grab her bags. "What are the two of you planning?"

"Nothing." "Baby shower." came the synchronized replies.

Mick narrowed his eyes at Josef.

"It's not a shower, it's a circus."

"It's a shower of gifts and goodwill from your undead devotees of LA."

"I'm not sure how desperate I am for presents from people who will want to eat me up," Beth swung open the refrigerator, tucking fruits and vegetables alongside vials and bags. She left Mick to the rest of the packages.

"Now, Beth, it's poor form to eat the guest of honor. I'll forcibly remove any fangs that go near your flesh. But you two are our own little Brad and Angelina. Making with the baby. If you don't give them a peek, you'll get to see the vampire version of paparazzi and they don't need SUVs to chase you," Josef finished off the glass of blood in his hand.

"How many vampires?" with a practiced movement, hands gripping the arm and back of the couch, she lowered herself opposite him.

"A dozen or so. Twenty tops. Twenty-four, plus freshies."

"Vampires don't do baby food guessing games, do they? Or candy bar diapers?" Josef blanched.

"Absolutely not. A few bottles of AB negative, whatever you humans want to snack on."

"Then it can't be worse than the torture the Buzzwire staff has in store for me," Beth shifted in her seat, rubbing circles over her stomach. "Mick, your son is kicking my kidneys."

"I'm sorry?" Mick returned to her side and put a hand against her. "Maybe he agrees with me that this shower is a bad idea. Come on, buddy, she doesn't know what she's dragging us into."

Josef was staring at the two of them, at her belly, head cocked.

"Oh, there he goes again. What are you trying to do to me, kid?"

"It's moving."

"He is," Beth replied.

"No, it. Your stomach," Josef came closer, knelt.

"He moves, it moves. Just wait til he gets one good punch in."

The elder vampire stayed fixed on her, hypnotized by the shift of skin under the layer of cotton, his hand came near, hovering a few inches over the latest wave.

Beth raised the hem of her shirt, exposing the peach fuzz round of her, and reached over and pushed Josef's hand against her skin. He flinched.

"Here," she followed her son's movement, guiding Josef's hand over her. Beth released him and took up Mick's hand. The cool pressure against her slowly warmed. A hunger of another kind came into Josef's eyes, a sweet lowdown longing.

Beth felt the baby shift, leaning against Josef. The kicks slowed. The four of them sat, Mick's hand in Beth's, Josef's on her, the child between them.

"Oh Beth," Josef whispered. "It's not your blood they're going to want."


	5. Chapter 5

Author's note: Many, many thanks to Anatomy Melancholia (aka Hydriotaphia) as always. She's willing to get spoiled so that I don't have an apoplectic fit.

And thanks to Lou for contradicting Google results with her personal experience for the sake of my story.

Part Five

There it was. Beth's breath vanished as Josef rose. The thing she'd been waiting for. The monster in the closet, the demon in the dark.

She was terrified and oddly relieved. The bad thing she'd been waiting for had happened.

"What?" Mick was on his feet, inches from the other vampire.

"Come on, Mick. I've been around four hundred years, and let me tell you, this is immortality," Josef took a reluctant step back.

"They're going to want this, all of this," he looked down again, Beth covered her shirt, wished she could cocoon them both away. "And I don't blame them."

"They can want it from a distance. A big distance. With stakes and flamethrowers between them and my family," Mick's eyes flashed.

"Calm down, Dad," Josef's eyes flickered to Beth. "We'll keep them safe. Nothing is hurting that kid on my watch. Nothing."

It turned out that nothing was a very big promise to keep.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Mick tried one last time as he pulled his wife from the car. A week of contemplation and consideration and Beth was still dedicated. "I'll tell Josef you went into labor."

Beth felt his hand at the small of her back, already moving in circles against the ache, and it pushed her fear away.

"I'm tired of worrying about it, about what they'll think, what they'll do," Beth gasped as she heaved herself up the steps. "I just want to get it over with."

The entryway was reassuringly hushed and bare, the normal portraits glaring down. There was no sound but Beth's kitten heels clicking on the polished floors.

Mick opened the doors to the great room and the roar of scurrying freshies hit them.

"We're not ready!" came the shouts. But not before Beth spotted the gilt chair in the middle of the room, just this side of a throne, bedecked in bows and baby rattles. And what looked suspiciously like a "Mommy-to-be" sash draped across it. Mick swung the door shut.

"Okay, I changed my mind, let's break my water and run."

An hour later, Beth felt like a prize dog with all the judging eyes and petting hands.

Prize sow actually, her stomach not the only thing feeling huge next to too-perfect vampires and their prize freshies. She'd tried munching on the assortment of foods Josef had picked out – piles of artistically arranged fruits and vegetables, intricately carved apples, caviar and pate and tiers of mini-cheesecakes – but every crunch seemed obscenely loud and she abandoned her plate.

She drifted through the Kostan version of baby heaven. Every sharp corner covered with yards of soft blue fabric. A corner was overflowing with smartly wrapped packages and more appeared every few minutes.

Mick pushed aside the tails of white helium balloons that floated in strategic cloud-like shapes as he led her in circles around the room. Every few minutes she paused for rest in one of the simple straight-backed chairs. As Mick rubbed her aching back, Beth played with the table favors, what she suspected were genuine crystal rattles at every setting and plucked at the frippery on the towers of diaper cakes on every table, wondering how the hell they'd get them home and whether they could possibly use that many diapers.

"It feels," Beth paused for effect, repeating the answer she'd given with each round of the curious. "like there's something in me. Something weirdly alive. And he'd like a little more room. Or at least for my lungs to get out of the way. Not breathing would be a big help at this stage if anyone is giving lessons."

The coterie of female vampires surrounding her laughed perfunctorily, eyes flicking to the belly with every blink of Beth's eyes. Eyes always on her. If Mick hadn't been just over her shoulder and Josef a breath away, she'd have felt like dinner.

The lithe brunette to her right flicked out a hand, but managed to restrain herself.

"It's true. I thought…" she shook her head. "But it smells like St. John -- like us."

Beth darted a glance at Mick.

"How? How did you do it?" the vampire moved an inch forward. "What did you do?"

"I have no idea. It just happened."

"Things like this don't just _happen_. They haven't 'just happened' for millenia," the space between them narrowed again as Beth danced backward.

"I really don't know," Beth's voice was stronger than her nerve. "We did what every normal human couple does to make a baby. Repeatedly."

"This is not normal. And at least one of you is not human. There must be _something_," the woman's voice lost its even-keel, edging toward desperation. "Tests. Have there been tests?"

"Yes," Beth tried to push the very-human quiver out of her voice, but must have failed because Mick was suddenly between her and the other vampire.

"Too close," his arm swung around her, a quick glance to make sure she was alright. Beth caught a flash of eyes, hers and his. The vampires in the room froze, even the freshies stopped breathing.

"You think you're the only one who wants this? You have a responsibility to –"

"I have a responsibility to them," Mick was a wall of marble in front of Beth, who winced at a sudden drumming against her ribs. She rubbed her stomach in an effort to quiet their son.

"Lucy," Josef seized the female vampire by the arm. Beth hadn't seen him move. "Let's talk. Now."

He swung her away from the confrontation.

"Give her a breather," Josef instructed and Mick led Beth away from the fray.

"I'm sorry," Mick pulled her against him sideways, a hand brushing her stomach. Beth closed her eyes and forced her heart to slow down.

"I'm actually rooting for Josef and his tar pits operation."

Mick smiled and she knew he'd be okay.

"I have my own place to hide the bodies, you know."

"Oh, I know," Beth pressed against him, hands then lips. "and I remind myself of that with every mood swing."

"I'll take care of this."

"I know," she stepped back and made a face. "Ugh. Bathroom. Your son is sitting on my bladder."

"I've noticed he's my son when he's annoying you. Is that how that's going to be?"

"Yes, get used to it," Beth gave a last peck on the cheek. "I'll be right back. Go make sure Josef doesn't start a vampire civil war, okay?"

"I'm not moving. You're lucky I don't follow you in."

Beth slipped into the ornate bathroom with Mick standing guard. She turned around, seeking desperate relief from the squishing of her bladder, and was in the first stall with just a frustrating trickle when she registered the second presence in the room. She yanked up her drawers and flushed.

She fished a hand into her bag to get the silver-laced mace Mick had forced on her long ago.

"Who's there?"

No answer.

Beth glanced down, the shadow of a figure hitting the stall. It neared and, when she could see the black boots in front of her, she whipped the door forward.

A hand caught the door, cracking the wood and catching her as she tried to dart through.

"Let's play nice, Miss Turner," he had a bruising grip on her arm and shaking the mace free.

"It's Mrs. St. John," Beth squirmed, eyes at the door back to the party and Mick just on the other side.

"Fine," the vampire looked amused. "Mrs. St. John, then. You're far enough along that the child is viable outside the womb. I could stop your heart and rip him out. But I'd think you'd rather come along quietly. And don't think your husband will be in to save the day. All of Josef's rooms are soundproof. And he'd never have a room with only one way out."

"What do you want?"

"I want to know why. And how. There are tests your pet vampires wouldn't let us run," he let her go with a sniff. "Wash your hands. That smell is disgusting."

Shaking, Beth put her hands under a cold stream, pumped soap, methodically scrubbing, buying as much time as possible.

"Let's move it along, Mrs. St. John."

Beth dried her hands, searching her mind for an escape plan. Nothing. Nothing.

As she turned, the door opened. Two giggling freshies.

"That man needs to calm down," one said.

"Mick!" her ragged scream came just before the vampire's hand lashed out. Her back cracked against the wall, her head followed. A painful pressure when she hit the floor, half on her stomach.

A blur, shoving the freshies aside, and a hiss. Beth saw the other vampire swing at Mick, claws drawn, blood flowing. The snap of teeth against his skin until Mick threw him against the stall, the wood shattered.

The freshies screaming and more bodies were rushing into the room. Cold hands were on her.

She heard a snap and the sickening slurp of wood in flesh.

"Mick!" she screamed, scrambling around the vampire holding her, thrashing. "Mick!"

"He's fine, Beth."

She looked up. Josef.

He tilted her to see the prone vampire on the ground and her husband twisting the stake. It was the last thing she saw before the dark overtook her.


	6. Chapter 6

Part Six

"Your shirt."

Mick tightened his grip on her hand. The first words from Beth he'd heard in the hours since her screams.

"Hey, baby," he rubbed her hand across his check. She let it drop to finger the spray of dark splatters on blue fabric.

"Mick, your shirt."

"Don't worry. It's not mine."

The monitors echoed Mick's hearing as her heart rate jumped.

"Where is he?" Beth struggled to move from the careful side position the nurses had set her in and gasped with the pain. "Oh God. The baby. Mick?"

"He's fine. The doctor said the amniotic fluid cushioned the fall," Mick parroted. "But they want to run more tests."

"Where am I?" another stab of pain flickered across her face as she tried to crane her neck to look around. She moaned.

"St. Charles."

"I thought we agreed no hospitals," Beth hissed.

"That was before you got attacked, Beth," Mick was firm.

She gasped again and pushed the heel of her hand against against her abdomen. Mick looked at the machines again, confirming what he already knew.

"And there's that. They've been happening since the fall," he set a cool hand against her forehead and hit the buzzer with the other. "They gave you some magnesium sulfate to stop the labor, but that wasn't too long ago."

"Oh God, that wasn't a Braxton-Hicks," Beth squeezed her eyes shut. "Everything hurts. Everything. And I think I'm going to be sick."

"Can I do anything?"

"Your hand. It feels good. Keep it there."

"Remember this next time you complain about my cold feet," Mick's smile didn't reach his eyes as he ran his hand down her flushed cheeks. She closed her eyes. "You're gonna be fine. He's gonna be fine."

He jabbed the buzzer again. Twice. Mick hit the button again as a nurse appeared.

"Good evening, folks. What's going on back here?" came the casual greeting.

"She's awake and she had another contraction," Mick bit back the urge to shake the chipper human out of her disgustingly bright scrubs and slam her against the wall. _My wife, my child. _The shine of silver almost seeped through and he stood. "We need the doctor."

"Those should be ending soon. How's the concussion?" the nurse leaned across and scribbled down the vitals.

"Concussion?" an awkward hand trekked to her skull, fingered the goose egg. "Oh God."

"That's not to bad for a slip and fall in the bathroom, honey. Next time get this big guy to change the light bulbs, okay? You're lucky – just a concussion and some bruising and you didn't hurt the baby," the nurse stepped away. "I'll be back to check on you soon."

"Where's the doctor?" Mick half snarled at the woman, his eyes on the patchwork of bruises peeking from Beth's hospital gown.

"He's in delivery. I'll send him in as soon as I can, sir," the woman shot back, suddenly all business. "She's fine. Sit down and calm down, you're not helping."

Flashes of bloodlust swept over him and he felt the sting on the inside of his lip. A image of ripping this woman apart, throwing bits of her against the wall until he had what he wanted. His nails dug into his own skin, cutting skin that healed over and over again.

He felt Beth's hand brush his. He turned to her, blinking silver.

"Mick," she put his hand on her stomach and he bled back grudgingly. The strong pulse of their son, the warmth under tight muscle.

"We'll wait then," Mick dismissed the nurse. The violence still skittered across his skin as fangs ached for blood.

"She's not the one you want to hurt, Mick," Beth said when the woman left. "What happened? I remember the vampire in the bathroom. His hands on me..."

Mick tried to capture the shudder that sent another spasm of pain through her body.

"He tried to hurt you, both of you," his skin gave over to pallor as he saw her again, crumpled on the floor, heard the skip of her heart, the silence of her breath. "Never."

"Who is he? What did he want?"

"Josef is finding out right now. And he's saving a piece for me."

Once the medicine kicked in, Beth drifted to sleep and didn't even notice when Mick's cool hand left her own just before midnight.

A pounding kick from her son woke her. She had the familiar urge to roll onto her back, but the pain stopped her. She registered the bite of an IV in her hand and the drone of machines and sleepless sounds of the hospital reminded her where she was.

The baby tossed and turned in her, a night person like his daddy. His painful kicks tethered her to reality. He was still there, he was fine. He was.

But the moment he settled, she saw nothing but hands grasping at her, every ache reminding her of how close they'd come to losing it all and how close they always would be. Their son was be part of a world that she didn't understand and couldn't defend him against. She didn't even know enough to know what to fear, just the anonymous mass of teeth and claw and hungry, hungry eyes.

The machines counted off her heart, his heart, a steady time. Her body still had life, her life, his life, their life. It still throbbed with promise and potential.

Beth wanted to cry but couldn't shake them from the ache in her chest. She wrapped arms around her stomach, holding tight as her muscles screamed at the abuse of the last 24 hours. She stared at the shadows of the room, afraid of what she would see when she closed her eyes.

In the middle of one blink or another, a figure appeared in the door, so fast she knew what it had to be.

Beth twitched, more pain as she sucked a breath for a scream, when it moved forward and Mick's face caught in the square of moonlight from the window.

"Oh God, Mick, I thought –" she found the tears. "I thought he was –"

He was at her side, bent down, hands on her, soothing.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

Beth reached up, clung to him, arms around his neck. So solid, something to cling to. She felt weightless as Mick lifted her up from the hospital bed. He wove through the tangle of wires and curled her against him.

"He's gone," he climbed up and settled her on his lap while he stroked her hair like a child.

"I can't protect my own son. I can't protect him _now, _in me_,_" Beth pushed against Mick, head on his chest.

"We'll be fine. We can keep him safe," Mick ran one hand through her hair, settling around her shoulders, and placed the other against their son.

"Please stay with me. Just stay."

They sat in silence for a stretch of minutes as Beth calmed down. As the tears dried and her heart slowed, Mick thought she might be falling asleep.

"Show me," her hand ran over his lip, pushing against his blunt teeth. "Show me again."

He stared at her, knowing what she wanted, a million protests and warnings at the ready, but none of them could overwhelm her eyes. His closed, and opened to steel.

Mick let the vampire surface, the vampire that owned the night, the part of him that knew he could protect what was his. Let the double time heart beat of Beth and baby roll through him.

She rubbed his fangs, testing their strength against her skin, and sent a shiver through him. A growl slipped, rumbled against Beth's hand.

Even as his silver eyes fixed on her, Beth's eyelids fell. Her hand drooped against his mouth and let the vampire hold her through the night.


	7. Chapter 7

Part Seven

Without a word, Josef handed Mick a package, wrapped in blue paper and tied with a bow, indistinguishable from the pile of baby presents still in the great room. Mick gave his friend a questioning look and ripped away the paper.

A plastic container and inside it a hand, ragged and torn, no clean cuts or easy tears.

"That would be the hand he laid on Beth," Josef informed him as he led the way to one of the rooms Beth would never see.

The answer to Mick's first question had been easy and decidedly modern, discovered with just a click of the mouse – the vampire had been one of Josef's own. He'd run the second set of tests, at one of the labs Josef owned. The vampire had been a carelessness of the old ways, never to be repeated. A favor to his sire, a European vampire with deals to make, Josef had put him on the payroll years ago without question, before surveillance and background checks, before the spyglass of technology could be trained on him. He'd had Beth's blood, Mick's blood. He'd asked for more – a request that would haunt Josef – but been denied.

The vampire was stretched across the floor, chained and stained with blood. Josef handed his friend a piece of wood and stepped back. Mick licked his lips, feeling fang and knelt.

The stake went in and the stake went out with clinical precision, nicking organs and arteries, as Mick started with simple questions. Names, places.

Silence.

The groans were interrupted by a a sucking sound as wood passed down to the concrete, the tip shattering a little.

There was so little skin and blood between spine and air.

The C4, T6, L4, L5 – sounds like cracking walnuts. Then he found bundle of nerves, playing his fingers over them. Slippery and delicate, like he'd always thought jellyfish would feel. No screams yet.

Mick ripped his fingers through the tissue paper-thin nerves and watched as they reknit themselves, flowing over the broken shells of his bones. A seal of perfect flesh.

Then the questions again as the stake came out.

"The lab."

A call from a woman late one night, a vampire who knew about the mystery of Mick St. John and who believed. There was a plane. Already gone. Private strip in the desert. One day, one time and the pilot would leave for parts unknown.

With a flick of his wrist, Josef shoved the stake back through that smooth skin and flipped him like a pancake, the flat of the stake banging against the table and pushing the stake further through his chest..

Mick pulled the broken tip, the wood catching at organs and flesh as it came through the other side, not a smooth wood. From the bathroom door, Mick thought, staring at the faded paint. He inhaled the fear, the pain oozing from the body.

"Tests, what tests?"

He pulled the silver-plated knife from Josef's tray of playthings.

Blood tests. Blood out of them. Blood into them. How much of Beth's blood. His blood. New blood in them. The tenuous St. John line as a teeter totter of measurements.

It always came down to the blood.

"Names."

Sophie Renault – the voice on the phone. A vampire who would meet him. William. No last name.

The knife sank into skin, pulling apart four sections, peeling layers to see the tangle of viscera, quiet, so quiet. No blood. The flutter of a heart with nothing to pump. When the thrashing began, Mick carefully worked the wood through the center of the silent, fleshy organ.

"I'm out of questions. But I have time."

Filled with teeth and claws and blood and vengeance.

_

* * *

_

_Heel, toe, heel, toe_, Beth repeated, carefully navigating the hallway, hand at her back.

"I will not waddle, damn it," she muttered as she headed to the door. She saw the hats and the uniforms, large boxes.

"Mick!" she hollered, a hand on the door and the other working aching muscles. His bleary, frozen, naked self was at her side before the echo faded.

"Put some clothes on," she rolled her eyes. "We have packages and they don't need to see yours."

She tugged the door but nothing happened. His hand weighed against the metal.

"You're just going to open the door? For random strangers? With boxes?" Mick's eyes flashed. His hand went to her face. "The bruises haven't even faded."

"We have baby furniture coming," Beth stomped a little and she reddened when she realized her mistake, but refused to admit it.

"We have enemies. We have bored, crazy vampires who want to play mad scientist, get their hands on you, on him," she swatted away his touch of her stomach.

"Oh, fuck the vampires," Beth spun away.

The buzzer rang again.

"Go into the freezer room. It's steel lined."

"Fuck you!" she called from the steps, breathing hard and wishing she could get a good stomp going. "Goddamned vampire bullshit."

"I love you!" Mick returned.

"Put some clothes on while you investigate the imminent vampire threat, Marlowe!"

* * *

"I thought there would be more blood," Mick whispered, holding Beth tight between his legs. His eyes grew wide and her lungs seized up as the shadows flickered around the room.

"I want to know why she's naked," Beth said, less quietly. "With porn music."

The rumble of his laughter earned a nasty look from the instructor, who'd already practiced her pinched face and head shake at them when Beth admitted they were less than a month away and at their first birthing class. Beth had specifically avoided visuals like this. She was going to be on the other side of those stirrups. Why did she need to see the play-by-play of pain to come.

But then Ryder had taught Josef how to text message and her phone began beeping several times an hour with tips and warnings. He'd tried to get her to hunker down and practice breathing with one of the freshies in the middle of his office on her last visit and pumped his own latent lungs with lamaze techniques until Beth let Mick sign them up for a night class.

"Seriously? When was this made?" Beth kept her whisper low enough only Mick could hear her. "I'm wearing clothes. And getting drugs. A lot of drugs."

She squeezed her eyes shut, then peeked, unable to look away as the thatch of dark hair pushed out. The rest seemed to go fast and suddenly the whine of the soundtrack was louder, the woman was clutching a baby to her chest and Beth was sighing.

Beth processed Mick's comment as the TV was wheeled away.

"Wait, more blood?" she let a dangerous hope tighten her chest. "So maybe? Maybe you could?"

Mick buried his nose against her and inhaled, let the smell tease him, push him to his limits. Rich, dark and delicious, the throb in his mouth matching the one in his groin. His tongue was half out of his mouth about to lick her like a pale popsicle. Her pounding heart reminded him of how dry his mouth, his throat, his body was. But he pushed back against the flow of red. The image of his son, their son, squalling and in his hands, Beth against him, that hunger overwhelmed his thirst.

"Maybe," he offered. "Maybe."

And, for Beth, for now, it was enough.


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks to the lovely and talented Guardian Angel for the read-through. She really is an angel ;)

Part Eight

He smelled like oil, the fine viscous coating of ball bearings and crib wheels. Her nose was more like his each passing day.

Just pregnancy, she told herself, third trimester nausea. The smell of Steve's coffee would hit her from across the newsroom, the odor of toner ink churned her stomach. Food was worse.

But this smell, this was good. This was Mick, his hands, holding bits of wood, the cold metal in his grip as he stood in the nursery, the puzzle of wooden parts spread, a handful of washers, screws and metal bits, a crib beginning to take shape. A dresser was together behind him. A rocking chair she'd never seen before.

His tongue peeked out as he stared at the directions in his hands.

"How's it going?"

"Harder than it looked," Mick furrowed a brow. "There are two screws too many and I don't think I have enough slats."

Beth wandered into the room, avoiding the pile, and settled in to the rocking chair.

"Where did this come from?"

He was quiet, set the tools down and came to sit at her feet.

"It's mine, my mother's anyway. My father made it for her," he traced the pattern of wood, the dark etches in the wood, the ridges on the arms. The gloss of the chair was gone, but the wood was rich and sturdy, clean and smelling of fresh lemon varnish.

"I got it at the estate sale. A couple of things I just couldn't leave..." he rubbed at a series of interlocking M's, Matthew, Mary, Michael, Margaret. "I never thought I'd have a use for it. Till you."

"It's beautiful," Beth closed her eyes, settled her hands on her stomach, felt Mick's on hers.

She rocked silently, the feeling and hush-hush sound lulling her to the edge of napping, as Mick returned to the pieces at her feet, his hands busying themselves, an occasional smile and murmured song in her drowsy direction. Held by the tatters of his old life, she watched their new one come together.

"I don't want to leave her alone so close to the due date," Mick watched his wife, sitting on a pile of pillows, maybe every pillow in the house as she unpacked yet another of his boxes, the souvenirs of so many decades.

* * *

"Why do you need canceled checks from 1963?" Beth hollered over his phone conversation as she dangled a stack of yellowed paper over the shredder. A second later the whir of gears and electric teeth were eating the paper from her hand.

"She's never alone," Josef distracted him from the holocaust of his history even as the shredder kicked on again. "And she told Andi and Simone last week it's driving her nuts. We need to get you out of her line of fire and into mine."

"I can't believe you want me to leave her alone, unprotected!"

"That's not what I said. Guillermo can sit with her or I can have a couple of the boys follow. Covertly, Mick. So Beth doesn't stake you so she can go to the store by herself.

"What am I supposed to do?" Mick dropped his voice. "I have no idea who is after them. All I have are dead ends and vamps who won't talk."

"It would help our long term prospects if you left them with functioning mouths at the end of the interrogation."

Mick was silent.

"Look, you're going to have the rest of his life to obsess and panic, I'm going to make sure of it. If you want to stay sane, you need to have a last hurrah. One night at my place before you're on daddy duty and it's back to Mick St. John, vampire stalker extraordinaire."

"Who the hell is Carol and why did you buy her a house!" Beth hit a particularly painful pitch and Mick winced. She was struggling to get to her feet. He only had a few minutes.

"Fine. One night and I want Beth within a two block radius," he hit end as the mother of his child prepared to make sure he wouldn't be fathering any more miracles.

* * *

The bottle of Dalmore 62 (a very good year, recalled Josef) was empty. Followed by Mick's choice of Johnnie Walker Blue.

"Admit it, you're naming him Josef," the older vampire was blowing smoke rings into the night sky.

Mick shook his head, his cigar burning itself out in his hand.

"Do you have any idea how violent a pregnant woman can be? I'm not spilling. I can't teach him how to play ball with my head detached from my body." A melancholy washed over him. "God, Josef. How can I teach him how to play ball? Or school picnics. How's he going to explain that his father can't eat and runs from the sun. When will people notice that Dad doesn't age? I can't-"

"Mick, stop thinking about what you're going to miss. Look at what you're going to get," Josef straightened. "You're going to be a father, Mick. You're going to see this piece of you go out into the world and do something amazing. The rest of it will work itself out. So shut the hell up."

Silence stretched between them.

"You're right. But what if," Mick's tongue stumbled over the words and not just because of the Scotch. "dear God, Josef, what if, he's... and I ... what if I get hungry?"

For that, Josef had no answer.

* * *

"I'm Old Mother Hubbard," Beth announced, opening and shutting cupboards.

"Huh?" Mick moved toward her, eyes on the hidden fridge and its stash of blood.

"My cupboards are bare," she kept a staccato rhythm of doors as though food might magically appear. "Moms are supposed to, you know, cook and have food. I should learn to bake cookies."

"I can cook."

"That's not the point," her hand dropped to her back. A sharp inhale.

"You okay?" the bag of blood spilled on the counter.

"Fine, fine," she kept her eyes squeezed shut as Mick's hand moved to her, rubbing circles against her back.

"Breathe. Is it... should I call Andi?"

"No, just the same pain as before. It'll go away," as if on cue, Beth relaxed. She looked down at her belly. "In or out, little guy."

Mick gave a last rub and went to clean up his mess.

"I'm voting for out."


	9. Chapter 9

Part Nine

Beth gritted her teeth and kept pecking away at the laptop. Damned if she'd miss a deadline, especially not her last deadline for a while. She'd been aching with cramps for the last few days and now the sharp pains had started. The worst part was that it wasn't going anywhere. Just a day of pain and regular runs to the bathroom for no good reason.

"Be nice to mommy, please. I have to finish this before you get here," Beth warned her belly. In the lull between pains, she typed quickly, flicking a glance at her notes, plugging in quotes, time stamps for the video feed. She had three paragraphs to go when the pain bit again, a tightening of her stomach. Just enough to keep her from the keys.

"The least you could do would be start coming closer together," Beth abandoned the story and began pacing the apartment.

"You know, I've never been somebody's mother before and I've never had someone, you know, come out of me before, so I'm a little nervous," Beth headed to the window, staring at the cityscape, the glare pricking her gaze and she turned away. "This is all you know, but, trust me, this whole me-as-an-incubator thing is new."

She wove through the kitchen, the living room, to the bookshelves. So many books she'd never read. Beth pulled her focus on the worn black cover just past her eye line, trying to read the type, keeping her gaze fixed on the print, just the print. The words were sliced in half by cracks in the binding. Henry Miller. An old copy, first edition maybe.

"Your father is a dirty old man, kid," Beth reached up, wrapped her fingers around it and pulled it out, only to be stabbed by an ache in her pelvis. The book fell to the ground.

"Oh, God."

Once she could move, Beth scrambled to her purse and rummaged for her phone. A quick scroll and it was ringing as she prayed for an answer. If she woke Mick, he'd just panic.

"Hi, Beth," the sound of cars and voices almost overwhelmed Andi's voice. "What's going on?"

"I'm not sure," Beth described the aches, the sharp waves over the last day. She heard noise in the background, then patch of silence as Andi must have covered the phone. The woman's voice came back.

"I'm shopping downtown. I'll hop the 405 and take a look. Stay right there."

"Thank you so much, Andi."

"Don't thank me yet." There was a pause, a blink of silence again. "The hard part is still ahead."

Beth moved to the couch and stretched, closed her eyes and waited.

The pain came and went twice before she heard the buzz of the door.

With a grunt, Beth rolled onto her side, dangling her legs over the edge, and pushed herself into a sitting position. With a great heave, she managed to stand up.

She gave a glance at the video screen and opened the door, escorting Andi in.

"Thank you. Should I sit down or should we go to the bedroom or--"

"The living room will be fine. Just have a seat," Andi played at the clasp of her canvas satchel, flipping open, shut, open shut.

When Beth was settled, Andi opened the bag.

"Let me give you something for the pain," she pulled out a syringe, flicked the needle and cleaned a stretch of skin above a blue vein in Beth's arm.

"I thought that stuff was supposed to go in my back or hip or something," Beth could barely question Andi before the liquid pumped through her, followed by a wash of fear. Andi's smile was too tight, her moves too fast.

The world was suddenly slowly down around her.

"Mm-" before his name was on her lips, she was in the dark, the last of her sensations fading.

"I'm so sorry, Beth," Andi whispered, the smell of salt tears on the air. "They have my family."

The midwife disappeared for a minute and returned with a wheelchair she'd stashed in the hallway. Andi bent over Beth, wrapping her arms around, and heaved up. A small stumble and a strain of muscles, then a limp Beth was in the chair. She rolled the pregnant woman out the door and shut the metal door behind her.

The sudden noise snapped Mick from sleep. He listened and sniffed the drifting currents of the apartment. The strong smell of Beth, lingering odors of Josef, Simone, Andi, Guillermo. Her heartbeat was rapid but steady. He heard her moving around downstairs and nothing more. He closed his eyes again, letting the cold wash over him.

Minutes or hours later, something else pricked him. A stronger smell. Andi?

His eyes flew open – the baby. Why hadn't Beth woken him?

He was out of the freezer, clothed and flying down the steps in an instant.

No Andi. In fact, no Beth. He spotted a book on the floor, her laptop fan kicking on and off. Mick moved to the table. No note, the overnight bag still at the door in case they needed to go to the hospital, though Beth planned to give birth in the medical unit at Josef's. A change in the air currents and the saccharine odor of some medicine hit his nose. He took it in, sifting through the olfactory memories.

_Beth in pain, the door open, Andi, liquid flowing into Beth's veins, a whispered apology._

"No!" Mick shuddered and reached for the nearest weapons cache. A growl erupted and without warning the vampire was in control, all instinct and desperation. He ran down the hall, to the emergency exit and vaulted over the stair rail. He threw himself against the rails as he fell, slowing his descent just enough not to splatter, and hit the ground floor in a crouch. Without a thought, he ripped the door to the parking garage off the hinges.

Beth's smell led to a dozen different places, but Andi's led to an empty parking spot and the recent trail of exhaust to the bright maw of sunshine from the exit.

Mick fumbled in his pocket for keys and his phone.

"Josef," Mick spoke the moment the line went live. "Andi took Beth."

The answering growl was met by the purr of the Benz's engine.

"Goddammit," Josef screamed into the phone. The noise of his home started up as Mick heard his friend's own freezer slam shut. "Someone get me Ryder. Now. Where the hell are the guards watching your place?"

"If they're not dead now, they will be soon."

"Where the fuck is Ryder? Two minutes and I'm going to start staking people. Get him here" Josef barked away from the phone. "I've got Andi marked. All the freshies are now. Ryder should be able to track them."

Mick pulled the car out of the lot and into the glare. The anger and heat brought a burn behind his eyes. He hadn't fed. But he'd have blood. Soon.

He maneuvered the Benz toward the freeway, squeezing the steering wheel to the point of cracking.

"They're on the 405, headed south." Mick heard Ryder's pronouncement and veered to the southbound ramp. "Maybe five miles ahead of you. It looks like LAX."

"Got it," the speedometer pushed to its zenith as Mick hurled the car around lackadaisical L.A. drivers, onto the berm, desperately scanning for Andi's black Toyota.

Josef was shouting orders from the other end of the phone.

"Get down there. Everyone but Ryder. Get the copter ready."

Some half-hearted protest about flight regulations.

"Screw the FAA. I'm going to the roof now and it better be there," Josef came back to the phone. "Mick, I'm leaving this phone with Ryder. I've got the second line."

"What exit are you at?" Ryder's strange over-enunciation rang in Mick's ear.

"Arbor Vitae"

"They're less than a mile away."

Already to the floor, Mick pressed the pedal harder, slightly afraid he'd break the lever. He nearly sideswiped a minivan. The side of his car hit the concrete with a scream.

"I see her," the Toyota was wedged between a semi and a rusted Pontiac, moving at a sedate pace. Mick cut the gas and swung behind a black Cadillac. "Where's Josef?"

"He's in the air."

The car edged to the right lane, to the Century Boulevard exit, toward LAX.

"How long?"

"A few minutes, five."

"I've got them, I don't think I can wait."

"Mick, they're coming."

"Are there any private flights scheduled in the next hour?"

"Two. One to Las Vegas, one to Lake Tahoe."

"I"m gonna run her off the road."

"Mick-"

"Look, just get Josef here," over the hum of traffic, Mick heard the rhythmic beats above him. "Never mind."

They hit a clear stretch of road and Mick pulled the Benz beside it. He looked into the car – Andi was slumped, unconscious or dead in the passenger seat, and a man obscured by hat and sunglasses was at the wheel. The man turned to Mick and smiled, touched his hand to the brim of his hat in an old-fashioned gesture.

Mick cut the wheel, slammed into the car. It fishtailed up and onto the concrete, spinning into an empty parking lot. The plastic buckled as the Toyota smacked a rusted bucket of a truck. Mick was out of the broken Benz into the sunshine, unable to hold back the fangs and fury.

In a smooth movement, he ripped the door off the Toyota and found Beth, unconscious and strapped to the seat. He was a second from shredding the seat belt when he felt the bite of claws at his neck, closing his airway and twisting.

Mick turned from his wife, swinging his attacker around. The claws ripped at his skin, rows of red, and momentum caught them tumbling across the lot. There was a blotch of black, red. Mick sank teeth in and chewed away chunks of tendons and muscles until his tongue touched bone and the hand didn't have enough strength to hold its grip.

Mick flipped the vampire over his head with sudden force. He heard the telltale crack as the other man's spine shattered against the blacktop and, in the moment's advantage, pulled a stake and sent it home.

He darted a painful glance at a shadow in the cloudless sky. The chopper was sinking to the scene. Mick wiped the blood from his mouth, his eyes on his Beth, stirring in the wreckage.

Cars had slowed around their little battle scene, so it took Mick moment to process the scene as a yellow SUV jumped the lane and screeched to a stop in the parking lot.

The doors flew open and Mick recognized the vampire.

"The bastard child and his son," Lance swaggered from the SUV despite the heat of the sun, flanked by his familiar companion and another man who reeked of decay like Lance.

"Did Coraline send you?" Mick spit the name of his ex-wife at her brother.

"Now, now," Lance held up a warning finger, his even voice rising as the growing din of the helicopter filled the lot. "It's thanks to the kindness of my dear sister that we didn't just cut the child from your woman and take him with us. She gave us the man in Kostan's lab and kept your head attached to your body. This isn't about Coraline."

The bird touched the ground, winds battering them as the blades spun, and heedless, Lance moved toward the car.

"You're not taking my son," Mick spidered himself across the door frame, hands and feet stretched between Lance and Beth.

"Everything you are, everything you have belongs to us. And Father wants him," the third of Lance's group spoke. "Who knows what this could mean for our bloodline?"

"William, be still," Lance snapped.

"Get away from the car, Lance," Josef's even voice stopped the other vampire.

"Josef Konstantin, is this a battle you really want to fight?"

Mick caught a blur of motion as Josef grabbed the burly, silent vampire from next to the SUV and whipped him up and behind him. The man flailed and screamed, then fell in two pieces, shoulders and head at Josef's feet and the rest of him in a tumble, arcs of red splattering the assembled vampires.

"Now, gentlemen," Josef licked the viscera from his lips as Lance restrained William with a steel hand. "I suggest we settle this amicably. Mick St. John is mine. Smell his blood."

Lance leaned inches from Mick, filling his lungs. He gagged a little.

"What have you done? This is not-" Lance for once seemed off balance. He grabbed Mick's arm, sniffing the patches of blood. A finger ran through one patch, catching the crimson. He darted a tongue out, tapped it against the blood. "How can this be?"

"I turned him after Coraline's cure had some unfortunate consequences," Josef stated. "You have no claim on him or that child."

Lance traded a look with William. He weighed the crowd of vampires that had slowly surrounded the impromptu battleground.

"I doubt father will want a mutt, no matter what the pedigree," he shrugged. "But he's not the only one who expressed an interest, Josef. And others won't be quite as polite."

William grabbed the staked vampire and slung him over his shoulder and the three withdrew.

Mick crawled into the car, listening for Beth's heart, steady but quick. She still hovered between conscious and not but her entire body seized and a soft moan came from her.

"It's okay, Bethie, baby," Mick gathered her into his arms.

"Mick?" Beth brought a hand to her head, then her stomach. "Oh, God."

Mick was hit by a sweet smell and a stickiness at her thighs, a half-dried trickle down her legs. Her water. "Josef, we need a hospital. Now."

The smell of fresh blood washed over him next and a spasm of panic struck until he recognized the scent. Then he had to gnaw his lips to keep from vaulting over the front seat to the former freshie to lap at her pool of blood.

"Josef," Mick moved his hands softly over Beth, feeling for broken bones, listening for the telltale burbles of internal bleeding. "Andi's in front."

"Leave her," Josef didn't look back as he hustled Mick and Beth into the chopper. "Let _her_ live in fear for a while."


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: Thanks to Guardian Angel for the continued hand-holding, early morning and late at night and as the two fade together. Thanks to everyone who stuck around to see this baby come to term (so to speak). Your kind words and open eyes have been a balm to my poor insecure soul.

Also, apologies to Elizabeth Stone, from whom I stole unabashedly :)

Part Ten

"So, should we call you Grandpa Josef?" Beth's voice was barely audible to the vampires over the smack of the blades. Mick almost choked on Josef's emergency bag of blood, licking the spill from his chin as he tried not to waste a single drop.

The noise of the helicopter quashed any reply, so Josef rolled his eyes instead.

With enough blood to dull the ache in his gums, if just barely, Mick wrapped himself around and under Beth in a cushion of flesh, kneading circles against her aching back and listening for trouble.

"Mick," Beth tilted her face up to him and he bent to meet her, to hold her to him. Mouth and nose nestled in the curve of his neck, he counted her breaths. Solid and steady. Her whispers rushed over his skin.

"Send someone for Andi. They have her family. Or had her family."

Mick nodded. The pierce of the sun shut his eyes. He had to trust the sounds of her heart, of their son's, the feel of her warm skin against him. He tried to ignore the sigh of blood beneath her skin, the tempting flow just inches from his hungry teeth.

One minute, two minutes, five. Ten. Finally, the hospital helipad glimmered blue beneath them. Scurrying figures in yellow, filled with red, he knew, came into sharper focus.

They hit the roof and Beth was out of his arms, her hand still reaching for him, but body being probed by others. He heard Josef making sharp announcements about a car accident, numbers shouted over the engine noise and the squeak of a gurney being wheeled over the tarmac.

But above the din, he heard it. Blood. The pretty nurse and her throbbing veins, the well-muscled doctor with his blue, blue wrists.

Then Beth's groans slapped him. Mick's eyes snapped to her.

"Mick?" He pushed through and stood at her shoulder. "I want to push. Can I push?"

"She's fully dilated," the doctor announced from between her legs as they paused for the elevator. A nurse was changing Beth into scrubs, the bloody dress and underwear in a plastic bag, and Mick's hands twitched. He could squeeze the liquid out, into his mouth, blood and cotton on his tongue.

"We need a room, fast. Next contraction, ma'am --"

"Beth, Beth St. John." Mick wiggled into his own protective clothing, concentrating on each step.

"Okay, Beth. Next time, you can push."

"Don't worry, dad. She'll be fine," the nurse put a hand on Mick.

The elevator doors closed. Sweet bouquets of blood filled the air. Silver and tears filled his eyes.

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

They should have been home, Beth waking him with the news. Mick frantically grabbing the suitcase, the wife. A debate over the Benz or the Prius, a call to Josef, Beth breaking his hand over and over while hurling invectives as they waited for their son.

Mick grabbed Beth's hand and held tight to what mattered.

The elevator doors split and the entourage spilled out. So much blood, inside and out. Mick felt a hand on him.

"You'll never make it like this," Josef held him back and as the busy hallway winked out of view.

"I have to," Mick crashed against him to open the doors.

"You will. But not like this," Josef pricked open a vein. "Don't argue. Drink."

A moment of hesitation and then the smooth of Josef's skin was between Mick's lips, the kaleidoscope taste of secondhand women in the cool copper tang.

"Are you okay?" Mick wiped his mouth, better already. He jabbed the button to open the doors.

"I think I need a nurse," Josef grinned. "And you need to hurry."

Mick sped through the hall, faster than a human would have, Beth's scent pulling him. And there she was.

"We're crowning, Beth," the doctor's voice urged. "You're going good, very good."

A thatch of black bulged from Beth in the most surreal moment, the baby inside Beth about to be out. Mick's breath caught. Their son. There.

He was at Beth's side, eyes on the strange image in the mirror facing the bed.

"Almost there," he put a cool hand on her head. "Almost, Beth."

Mick took her hand, pulled it down and brushed the tips against the shock of hair. Her eyes widened against the new pressure.

"That's him," Mick watched her face flit from wonder to joy until it screwed tight again and her hand slipped to grip the edge of the bed. Every muscle busy.

A face.

A shoulder. Arms. Legs. Feet.

"Congratulations, it's a boy!"

The room blurred. He smelled Beth's tears with his own.

Then he was in her arms, their son. Hiccuping sobs from Beth as her hands ran over him, nurses wiping, squeezing, cleaning.

The first whoosh of air into tiny lungs and the heartbeat picked up. Mick held his breath, afraid as blue skin became pink.

His clear cat-cry rang out, the most beautiful sound since his name on Beth's lips.

He placed fingertips against his son's skin. Eyes of the pale blue peeked at him as Beth shifted his tiny body to lay against her warmth. Mick's arms itched for him but he stepped away.

"I'll tell Josef," Mick headed for the door where he could breathe again without chancing the smell of his son. "I'll see you in the room."

An hour later, clothes changed, calls made and veins full, Mick paced outside Beth's room. He heard the sigh of her sleeping and the echoing beat of a heart next to hers. He could read the little card, scrawled in a careful lettering, "Matthew Turner St. John, 6 lbs, 10 ozs., 19.5 inches. Michael and Elizabeth St. John." And beneath it slept his son.

When the third nurse asked if she could help him, he finally pushed himself through the doorway, leaving it open a crack.

The terror, absolute terror, bit him. Worse than her eyes on his bloody mouth, worse than the seize of her breath and tremble of her arm against him in the desert. But not even his own fear could keep him from this child. He wanted to see this little person he and Beth had made, the part of him outside of him. He wanted his miracle.

He laid trembling hands over Matthew, slipping his pinkie into the tiny grip. Mick smoothed the dark hair, so small head in his palm.

He took a breath, ready for thirst and crushing despair, for the world to fall, for the vampire to scream out for blood and make Mick a monster in his son's eyes.

Nothing. He smelled fresh, familiar and faintly of Beth. Another breath – antibiotics, cotton, a sweet unknown. There was blood, he could hear it pumping, but nothing Mick was hungry for. Nothing.

He eased him into his arms, wishing he could pull this moment inside himself, cocoon them against the world.

"Matthew. My Matty," Mick tried as the eyes opened to him, tracked his face, his smile. His arms were made for this moment. He leaned down and settled lips against so soft skin. "Hey, buddy, I'm your daddy."

Beth's heartbeat ticked up. Mick caught her sleepy eyes on them and shifted to face her.

"Hi, daddy," she smiled.

"Look, Mommy's up. You tired her out," Mick curled him closer. "Of course, you had some help. But Uncle Josef and I took care of that."

"Where is he?"

"Probably getting the marching band ready. Or buying out every florist in L.A. Having the girls break open those diaper cakes. He'll be here soon."

Mick couldn't stop touching his son, a reassurance he was really there.

"It's the strangest feeling, isn't it?" Mick gave her a confused look. "Having your heart suddenly outside your body?"

The smile was inescapable.

"Mine's been somewhere else for more than 20 years," Mick moved toward her, reluctantly handing Matthew to her. "But I know what you mean."

Beth pulled her child to her, inched to the edge of the bed and pulled the vampire to them. He held her, holding him, and didn't think he could ever let them go.


End file.
